Grandpa Rome's Fairy Tales
by DJMitsu
Summary: Come in, reader, have a drink, get comfortable, and let everyone's favorite Grandpa tell you a story! He has loads to tell, and to make sure you're interested he'll even switch out the characters for the Hetalia cast!


Pulling your jacket tighter around yourself, you turned past your house and continued up the street, making a left and going down three blocks. With your family busy at the moment, no reason to go home and be all alone, right? So you figured you would go spend some time with Gramps. It'd been awhile since you'd seen him, and now was certainly as good a time as any.

Shivering against the cold winds blowing the light drizzle that threatened to downpour at any moment directly into your face, you knocked gently on the all-too familiar door of your almost-neighbor. It swung open but a moment later, and there stood Gramps.

Quickly ushering you inside and firmly shutting the door, you shivered, the warmth of his house only reminding you of how frigid it felt outside. Even his smile was warm as he pulled you into a tight hug, leading you into his living room in the process.

"Ahh, my-a little bambino! It's been so long since you-a visited me! Why-a go in such weather though?" He asked chuckling and draping a blanket over your shoulders and sitting you down, moving to add another log to the fire he'd had burning half the day.

"I finally had the time." You responded with a nod, smiling up at him as he hummed and gently prodded the wood until it caught fire. "I would come more, but my parents think it's a long walk alone for someone my age."

He nodded thoughtfully and shrugged, ruffling your rain-mussed hair. "Ah, I wouldn't-a worry, you seem like a smart enough child." He said nodding and settling himself next to you on his couch, beaming. With his own grandkids busy, it wasn't too often he had company, and you and him had always bonded well. "how long will-a you be staying?" He asked looking over to you.

"Not sure…I'll call home later." You murmured yawning and leaning back. "I just kind of came to hang out…"

"Ahhh. So you have-a nothing to do?" He asked quietly.

"Mhmm."

"Hm…I will-a tell you a story then!" He exclaimed happily, chest swelling as he nodded to himself.

"What? Gramps, I'm way too old for stories!" You protested in a surprised manner, sitting up and holding the blanket tighter as you crossed your arms defiantly.

He chuckled, rubbing his slightly stubbly chin. "What if I-a made it more interesting for you, how about then?"

"What do you mean by interesting?" You asked in a hushed tone, blinking up at him. While you looked wary, he also saw interest in your eyes.

"I'll add in some others from around the neighborhood." He said nodding, seeming very pleased with his twist to the story (whatever it may be). "_Once upon a time…"_

~xXx~

There was once upon a time an old goat, Elizaveta, who had seven kids who she loved very much; the first called Arthur, the second called Yao, the third called Francis, the fourth called Alfred, the fifth called Hercales, the sixth called Kiku, and the seventh, and youngest, called Peter.

"Now children," Elizaveta said one day, "I must go into the forest to fetch us some food. I want you to be on your guard for the wolf, if he comes in, he will eat you all up – hair, bones, everything. The beast often disguises himself, but you will always be able to tell if it's him by his rough voice and snow white hair. Also, he says 'awesome' a lot." She said with an irritated sigh.

"It's okay mother," the children responded, "We'll take good care of ourselves!"

And so Elizaveta went off into the forest with a bleat, calm and worry-free.

It was not long before a knock sounded at the door, and as the kids huddled around it, a voice called out, "Open the door, children, your mother has returned home from the forest with some awesome things for you!"

"Okay!" Alfred cried reaching for the door before being nudged back by Arthur. "It's obviously the wolf, Alfred! Just listen to his voice!"

"And 'e said awesome." Francis observed with a nod.

"We won't let you in, wolf!" They cried in unison, huddling together. "Our mother's voice is soft, and yours is rough!" Watching as the silhouette of the wolf against the window vanish as he left, they relaxed.

The wolf went to a merchant's stand, a Canadian boy by the name of Matt who sold some kind of thick, sweet condiment for pancakes. The Prussian Wolf bought a jar of this and drank it down, making his voice soft and pleasant.

Coming back, the wolf knocked once more. "Open the door children, your mother has returned from the forest, with a gift for each one of you!" He said cheerfully, peeking at them through the window.

"Okay!" Alfred said reaching up for the knob, before being nudged back again by Arthur. "No, idiot," he bleated, "Look at his hair!"

"It's white as snow." Yao said nodding and watching the wolf anxiously.

"Go away wolf," the children cried, "We can see your snow white hair!"

And so the wolf left once more. He went to an Italian baker by the name of Veneciano and asked, "The woman I seek fancies black hair, could you take some soot from your fireplace and coat my hair?" At first, the baker knew the wolf was trying to deceive someone and refused, but the wolf responded, "If you don't, I'll eat you whole." The baker was afraid, and hastened to fufill his request. Such is the nature of Italians.

Then, the wolf journeyed to the small cottage of an author, coincidentally the brother of the baker he had seen previously. "Help me," the wolf implored, "I would like you to put some of your ink in my hair." Seeing his ashy hair, the author complied.

And so, the wolf knocked on the door a third time. "Open the door children, your mother has returned from the forest with a gift for each of you!"

"Haven't we heard this twice already…?" Kiku asked himself quietly.

"Her hair is dark," Observed Hercales.

"And her voice is soft!" Exclaimed Peter.

Alfred looked briefly to Arthur before bounding to the door and opening it. Unfortunately, it was not their mother that came in, but the very wolf they had been so fearful of. The children ran and quickly hid themselves; Arthur under the table, Yao into the bed, Francis into the stove, Alfred into the kitchen, Hercales into the cupboard, and Peter into the clock-case. But the wolf found them all, and wasted no time devouring them whole. The youngest, Peter, who had hidden in the clock case, was the only one left.

The wolf left after eating his fill, and not long after his mother arrived. She gasped, all the quilts overturned, cupboards open, chairs and tables overturned. She looked for her children, calling them each by name, getting no answer until the last.

"Mother," cried Peter, "I'm in the clock case."

And so Elizaveta ran to her child, and she hugged him happily as he shook. "Mother," he explained, "The wolf tricked us into letting him in and ate my brothers!"

And as the great Prussian wolf lay sleeping in a field, snoring hard enough to make the trees bend, dear Elizaveta led Peter (who held a needle and thread) up to him and carefully nudged his stomach. She felt a tiny nudge, to her surprise. In the midst of his greedy feast, the wolf had eaten them all whole, and still alive!

Making sure he would be out the whole time, Elizaveta paused to give him a hard hit to the head with a skillet from home before carefully opening his belly. She had hardly broken the skin before Alfred thrust his head out, bleating loudly as he clambered out of the beasts stomach. His brothers followed closely behind, and the there was much rejoicing as the family hugged eachother.

"Now," Elizaveta said casting a glare at the unconscious beast, "We will punish the wolf."

And so the children set to finding six large stones, setting them in the wolf's belly before filling the remaining space with pebbles and smaller rocks. Elizaveta carefully sewed him back up, and they quietly made their way home not minutes before the wolf awoke.

Quite satisfied with himself, he went to a local pub to get a drink, watching his stomach dismally. "I ate six goats," he murmured to himself, "but it feels like stones are rattling inside me."

Shaking it off, he went to the pub and boasted of his feat to the Austrian barkeep, who seemed more disgusted then impressed. The wolf demanded a large bowl of alcohol, as a mug wasn't enough to satisfy him, one so great the table couldn't hold it. Placing it upon the ground, the Austrian looked up just in time to see the wolf bend down to drink it. The stones, however, weighed the wolf down, and he drowned in the bowl as the Austrian ran outside to yell, "The wolf! The wolf – is dead!"

There was much joy spread through the village, and the family lived happily from then after.

~xXx~

By this time, you were nearly drifting off as you leaned comfortably against the arm of the sofa, admiring it's washed out red shade as he spoke. "Okay…" you muttered, making sure not to look up lest you make eye contact with him, "That was a good story. But why was Prussia the wolf?"

"The role-a fit him, don't you think?" He asked laughing and tossing another blanket over you.

You both laughed as he added a log to the fire.

* * *

**A/N: Okaaay, so, a couple things I need to say.**

**He isn't talking to Italy or Romano, more you, but I plan on leaving the person's age, gender, etc. vague enough ANYONE can insert themselves in.**

**I'm also wondering if I should keep writing in Rome's accent? While I like having it to help me picture the accent, some people might find it distracting…So feedback on that would be appreciated.**

**I find all these stories online, so if you have one you would like to see done, feel free to suggest it and I'll see what I can do! ^^ Try not to pick one too long though, because these can get lengthy and I want this story's chapters to be an easily manageable read.**


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